Just Like the Movies
by SweetandUnknown
Summary: "I'm Sam," you say, offering your free hand as your eyes get trapped by hazel once again, "I just moved in next door." / "Quinn," she says, shaking your hand gently. Her hands are soft like her voice, and you wonder what makes her seem like she's holding onto something fragile.— AU, Faberry, Sam's POV, post-season 1
1. Chapter 1

Summary: "I'm Sam," you say, offering your free hand as your eyes get trapped by hazel once again, "I just moved in next door." / "Quinn," she says, shaking your hand gently. Her hands are soft like her voice, and you wonder what makes her seem like she's holding onto something fragile.—- AU, Faberry, Sam's POV, post-season 1

Rated: T

a/n: another fic i'm working on over in the Tumblr world (closetcasefabray).

* * *

**Just Like The Movies**

**1.**

The first time you see her, you decide you need to read more books because there must be more words than _beautiful_ to describe a girl like Quinn Fabray.

Your mom asked you to bring the neighbors some fresh brownies, and you quickly obliged when you saw Quinn walking out to her driveway.

"Hi," you say, approaching her from your yard as she grabs the newspaper at the end of the driveway. You try to recall some poetry you once read about the seasons, but nothing comes to mind when she looks at you with her hazel eyes.

She smiles - it's modest, the way her lips curve up slightly - and you will always remember how your heart swelled as she met you halfway between your yards.

"Hi," she says. Her voice is slightly husky, holding onto the quiet of the morning, and you glance at her lips to watch them move around a simple greeting.

"I'm Sam," you say, offering your free hand as your eyes get trapped by hazel once again, "I just moved in next door."

She looks at your lips too, but you're used to this. Your nickname _was _"guppy lips" at your previous school.

"Quinn," she says, shaking your hand gently. Her hands are soft like her voice, and you wonder what makes her seem like she's holding onto something fragile.

"My mom baked these and wanted to say hello to you and your family," you say, motioning to her house with the plate of brownies. "She's still in the middle of unpacking, though."

"Oh, this is actually my aunt's house," Quinn explains, "I'm house-sitting for the summer."

"Sweet deal," you say and internally cringe – _Sweet deal_? "But here, take these. My mom bakes great brownies."

She takes the plate, "I, uh, have to go run some errands for my mom, but I'm sure I'll see you later," she says politely.

"Yeah, it was nice meeting you, Quinn," you say, hoping your grin isn't too doofy as you give an awkward wave goodbye.

"Yeah, you too, Sam."

You'll also always remember the way she said your name, the way you looked for some hidden meaning behind the sound of her voice.

* * *

You're in your room, unpacking the small boxes that are left, when you notice Quinn's car pull back into the driveway. She gets out from the driver's side, carrying a brown bag of groceries, and you see two other girls – one brunette, one blonde – get out with a grocery bag each as well.

* * *

You discover that your room is across from Quinn's, at least the room she appears to be staying in. Your windows are slightly higher than hers, and there must be a glare on your window with the way the sun hits it because you thought she looked right at you, but she just carried on folding her laundry.

You move your desk over slightly, hoping to skew the view, but instead you have a view of her small above-ground pool in the back yard and can see through only one of her windows instead of two.

You hope she has blinds and that she uses them.

* * *

You read some poetry, but you keep getting caught up on the longer words that are really multiple words smashed together. You appreciate the aesthetics of e. e. cummings if anything – how the words seem carried by the wind across the page. Despite what people think of your relationship with words, you think they're beautiful. There is a certain kind of patience that poetry demands, and part of you is grateful that you read it at a similar pace to everyone else.

You spend almost an hour reading one of his poems, and the disjointed appearance of it all makes it rather incomprehensible. But some words stand out, and you think that maybe there are some things that are never really meant to be understood as a whole.

* * *

It's a hot day, too hot to go out and try and explore Lima, but you figure you got the gist of it from your drive into town to get snacks for your siblings.

You open every window in your room, but you're not sure if it is actually helping fight the heat when there is no hint of a breeze. You only have a fan, but this doesn't stop your brother from inviting himself in to watch Star Wars with you. (You only have the movies on VHS, and you have the only VCR player in the house.) You just ruffle his hair and move over on your bed to make room for him.

* * *

You're in the middle of _Return of the Jedi_, drinking root beer and eating Cheez-Its, when you hear a car engine pull up next door.

You peer out your window, after glancing at your brother whose eyes are glued to the screen, to see a different car in the driveway. You watch the same blonde and brunette get out of their car, carrying small bags (or big purses, you don't really know). They disappear into the house, and a minute passes before you see the three of them enter Quinn's room.

They drop their bags and flop onto the bed, immersed in conversation. The brunette starts filing her nails as the blonde dumps out a bag of nail polish. You wonder if the movies were right about how cliché girls could be. You're still trying to figure out what exactly girls do together.

Quinn disappears from the room and the blonde scoots closer to the brunette; she bumps her shoulder against the other girl's and smiles at her. You decide some movies were maybe a little right when the blonde leans in and kisses the other girl. It's soft and sweet, and they say a few words between kisses, laughing lightly. You can almost hear their whispers passing between their lips.

Quinn reenters and throws a pillow at her friends. You know it's good-natured because the brunette just laughs, throwing it back at Quinn. Your hopes for a pillow fight get squashed when she tucks it back into place before hopping onto the bed beside the other two.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" Your brother's head pops up in your line of sight, and you are grateful that the girls seem to be reading magazines and talking. Your brother turns to you, squinting his eyes, "Are you being a _peeping Tim_?"

"It's Peeping _Tom_, and _no_. I just… Stevie, this is an important part of the movie," you say, pointing to the screen.

He shrugs, and despite having seen it a hundred times in his nine years, he doesn't put up a fight.

Later on, you breathe a sigh of relief when you notice the blinds are drawn.

* * *

It's just past five when you hear the blonde and brunette calling goodbye from the driveway. The blonde waves to Quinn at the door before getting into the passenger seat.

You almost jump a minute later when Quinn's blinds fly open. You move away from the window, but you see her prop a small fan on the windowsill before pulling her hair back into a ponytail. A moment later, you see another car pull up to her house and a small brunette hops out of the driver's side. She pretty much bounces her way to the door.

You decide you've done enough peeping and open your very old and slow laptop as you lie on your bed. You're about to put in your headphones when you hear singing. You resist at first, but end up peering over your laptop to see Quinn's back to you as she holds a piece of paper. You don't recognize the song, nor can you really hear the lyrics, but you can hear the difference in their voices. The brunette might be small, but her voice isn't; it comes out strong and smooth, while there is a certain husky quality in Quinn's.

You watch as Quinn moves to take a seat next to the brunette on her bed, and there's something in the way that the smaller girl moves over an inch that makes their relationship unclear. The brunette continues to talk, and you notice that Quinn doesn't look away from her. Her mouth keeps moving, but Quinn sits there nodding, patient.

When the other girl looks up and smiles at Quinn, you watch the blonde's lips curve into a grin, but she looks unsure, like she's attempting to read the brunette.

You conclude that they must be good friends, especially since that girl seems to talk a lot, and Quinn appears completely content with listening to her.


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: "I'm Sam," you say, offering your free hand as your eyes get trapped by hazel once again, "I just moved in next door." / "Quinn," she says, shaking your hand gently. Her hands are soft like her voice, and you wonder what makes her seem like she's holding onto something fragile.—- AU, Faberry, Sam's POV, post-season 1

Rated: T

* * *

**Just Like the Movies**

**2.**

You take the remote control from Stevie, who is holding it away from Stacey.

You tried reading a Walt Whitman poem earlier, but you stopped halfway through and decided that a movie seems easier. Your mom left you in charge of your siblings, so you have to keep your movie options PG.

"We've watched _Cars_ before, though," Stacey whines.

"I'm not watching _Tangled_ again," your brother says with his arms crossed.

You're about to step in before a tantrum can erupt when the doorbell rings. You decide to take the remote with you to be safe.

You open the door to see Quinn, standing there with a bright smile to match her sunflower yellow sundress.

"Quinn, hi."

"Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to go into town and grab a coffee?" she says. Her voice isn't as husky as it was when you met, but it's quiet and gentle as if she doesn't want to disturb the air between the both of you.

"I'd love to, but I'm actually babysitting right now," you explain.

As if on cue, Stevie runs out from the living room.

"I'm not a baby," he says, making a grab for the remote, which you easily keep from his reach.

"It's just a word," you say to him.

Stevie's stops struggling to reach the remote once his eyes land on Quinn. His face turns bright red. "Still not a baby," he grumbles.

"This is my brother, Stevie," you say.

Quinn's voice is sweet when she says hi to him.

Stevie has moved slightly behind you.

"Are you going to say hi to our neighbor?" you ask him.

"Hi," he murmurs before running back to the living room.

A second later, Stacey peers out from the living room.

She hides quickly, and you hear her whisper, _She looks like a princess._

"Don't be stupid," Stevie retorts.

"Hey," you call to them, "Don't be mean."

You turn back to Quinn whose head is tilted slightly as she grins.

"Got your arms full," she notes.

You shrug, "It's fine. Did you want to have some coffee here?"

She nods, and you step to the side to let her into the house.

You get the coffee maker set up as Quinn sits on a stool at the counter. You gave the remote to Stevie and told him they could watch what Stacey wanted for half an hour, and then whatever he wanted the next.

You ask Quinn what she's up to this summer, and she explains that she's just spending some time away from her mom. You figure out that her parents are divorced, but you don't dig too deep. The closest you get to an explanation is when Quinn says, _I love her, but we had a rough year; we're still trying to work through the debris._

You imagine dark ash smeared across Quinn's bright dress and porcelain skin, the wind of a fading storm blowing her hair.

When you take your coffee mugs into the living room, there's something about the way Quinn looks at your brother and sister that makes you want to hug her.

* * *

"_I wanna be a billionaire so freakin' bad, buy all of the things I never had_," you sing along to the radio as you dunk the sponge into the bucket of soapy water. It's the first day all week where it's been below ninety degrees, so you're taking the opportunity to clean your dad's truck. "_I wanna be on the cover of Forbes magazine, smilin' next to Oprah and the Queen._"

Your brother walks out onto the driveway, picks up a rag and starts helping, smiling at you as you keep singing, "_Oh, every time I close my eyes, I see my name in shining lights. Yeah, a different city every night, oh I, I swear, the world better prepare for when I'm a billionaire_."

"You're going to be famous someday," he says, drying the areas you scrubbed.

You grin at him and ruffle his hair, "Hope so, bud. That way I can buy you a sweet car."

"I want a monster truck!"

"Whatever you want," you say, blowing some suds at him.

"You have a good voice."

You turn around and see Quinn standing next to your driveway with your plate, but there are muffins stacked on top of it. Beside her stands a friend you haven't met yet… well, seen over Quinn's, really.

"I'm Mercedes."

"Sam."

"Mercedes and I are decent bakers when we get together, so we wanted to bring over some banana muffins," Quinn explains.

"I'm Stevie!" your brother pipes in.

"Hi, Stevie," Mercedes says with a warm smile. "Do you like banana muffins?"

"Not really," he says with a shrug. She and Quinn laugh.

"He thinks he doesn't like fruit because he doesn't like the healthy food my mom gets," you explain, taking the plate Quinn offers.

Your dad opens the door in the garage, calling Stevie in to make his bed since he didn't do his chores this morning. He walks out of the house to greet Quinn, having met her when she was over having coffee. You introduce him to Mercedes and she's so perfectly polite and endearing.

Your dad leaves with the plate of muffins to let you to talk with the girls.

"We were about to watch this movie, if you wanted to hang out," Mercedes says.

"Uh, sure, what movie?"

"This French film that Quinn's been bugging me to watch," she says with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, "Girl is too cultured for me, but I deal with it."

Quinn laughs and nudges Mercedes with her shoulder.

"Oh," you say, looking for the best response, biting back the mild panic, "I don't really do French movies."

Quinn shrugs, "It's okay. Not everyone's thing," and you see a subtle change in the tides of hazel as she watches you mindlessly wringing the now-dry sponge in your hands.

"Do you do parties?" Mercedes asks, quirking her eyebrow hopefully.

You nod, "Of course."

"I'm having a small party this weekend," Quinn says, "Nothing crazy - just a group of us from glee club."

"Oh, you sing?" you ask, feigning surprise.

"I try," Quinn says with a smirk, "but Mercedes is the best."

"Excluding one Rachel Berry," Mercedes says, this time a moderate eye roll. You're almost positive you know who she's referring to - the small brunette who was over Quinn's the other day, but you can't say that.

"Who? Is she the captain?"

"Yeah, I guess that's one name for-"

"Yes," Quinn interjects, "You should sign up once school starts."

"Once you meet Berry, she'll be sure to recruit you," Mercedes adds.

"Will she be at the party? I'd like to talk about joining."

"You'll regret saying that."

"So you'll come?" Quinn asks hopefully.

"Yeah. Definitely," you say, possibly sounding too eager.

They both smile at you and say goodbye before walking back to Quinn's. You watch them disappear and refrain from doing a dance to celebrate the fact that you were invited to your first Lima party by two beautiful girls.

* * *

You're proud of yourself for not peeping for an entire day. Almost like a reward, Quinn shows up on your front porch, standing there in one of her pretty sundresses with her pretty smile, holding two cups of iced coffee.

You sit in your living room as the TV plays in the background. You apologize for not joining for the movie, that it's not that you aren't interested, rather, you can't keep up with the subtitles. Quinn's hand is soft when she lays it atop yours, her smile just as tender. She asks what your favorite movies are, and when she doesn't pick up on your Bond impression, you decide she needs a 007 intervention.

While you both watch _Goldfinger_, you notice that her phone keeps lighting up with text messages, but she keeps ignoring them. Once the credits roll, you comment on her popularity.

"It's nothing," she says with a sigh. "This girl, Rachel –"

"Berry?"

"Yeah. Her. She's just annoying me about rehearsing for glee."

"You guys rehearse during the summer? That's intense," you say, wondering how much of a commitment this glee club might be.

"No one else does. Just her. She's annoying," she says with a huff.

You feel your eyebrows scrunch up in confusion because maybe you're thinking of the wrong girl.

Quinn looks at her phone and types something out. "She doesn't know what a vacation is."

She apologizes and puts away her phone. When you hear it vibrate once again, Quinn just sighs and ignores it.

* * *

You're glad your parents aren't home because you can hear the bass of a stereo from your yard as you lock the front door behind you. Stevie and Stacey are staying with your aunt and uncle in Columbus, so you're free for the night.

Quinn greets you at the door and leads you to the kitchen. She pulls out her phone and types out a quick text before tucking it back in her pocket.

You see Mercedes drinking a bottle of Miller High Life, and you notice everyone has a drink in hand. You apologize for not bringing anything, but Quinn just opens her refrigerator and passes you a can of beer.

"There will be more in a bit," she explains, pouring herself a glass of tap water.

"You must be Sam," comes a voice from behind you. You turn around and see the blonde and brunette are there, each holding a solo cup of something.

"Yeah, I just moved in next door."

"What gene pool did you land in to get a mouth like yours?" Santana asks, openly gaping at you.

"Uh…"

"_Santana_," Quinn seethes from beside you, giving her a harsh look.

"What? I'm just easily distracted, and Trouty Mouth here has some lips on him."

"Were you a mer-man in a past life?" the blonde asks, tipping her head to the side inquisitively, "Did you know Flounder?"

"I don't know. Maybe…" Never have you had such an introduction.

"This is Santana and Brittany," Quinn explains, "Brittany is the _sweet one_ and Santana is-"

"The bitch," Santana finishes with a smirk.

You're grateful for the booming voice that interrupts what could have easily become an onslaught of strange questions from Brittany and rude comments from Santana.

"PUCKASAURUS BROUGHT THE BREWSKIES!"

A guy with a mohawk and a tall guy in a letterman jacket enter the kitchen, each carrying a thirty-rack of Bud Light. Following them in is a shorter, skinnier boy with a well-kept haircut and charcoal-colored blazer; his high fashion seems out of place, but you appreciate the diversity of it all.

You are introduced to them - Puck, Finn, and Kurt - an quickly get to talking about football with Puck and Finn. Kurt makes a comment about a "surplus of testosterone," before joining Mercedes and Quinn. Puck has basically started recruiting you for the football team, so you almost miss the short brunette enter. She pauses as she looks around the room before walking over to Quinn.

Puck is saying something about their record and their crap coach, but you can't help but overhear the quiet, _Hello, Quinn._

"Hey, Rachel." Quinn's voice isn't harsh or flippant like when she commented how_annoying _she was. You also pat yourself on the back for being correct about Rachel Berry's identity.

"Wine coolers? Is that for dinner or supper, _Hobbit_?" Santana says, watching Rachel place a six-pack of bright pink wine coolers in Quinn's refrigerator.

"My favorite meal is Second Breakfast," Brittany adds.

"I thought alcohol melted divas," Kurt comments.

"You seem to be okay," Rachel counters.

Kurt sort of shrugs as a "Touché", and a small smile plays at his lips. You assume there must be some history, but you don't question it.

You excuse yourself from Puck and Finn before taking a few steps toward Rachel. You watch her pass Quinn a wine cooler, and the blonde gives her a quiet, _Thank you_.

"Hi," you say, sticking out your hand, "You're Rachel Berry, right?"

"Yes, I am," she says, standing a little straighter, taking your hand. "You must be Sam Evans."

"Uh… yeah," you say, unsure of how she knows you.

Rachel looks at Quinn briefly before adding, "As Glee captain, I like to know of new additions to the Lima community in order to add to my list of possible Glee recruits. I find it of the utmost importance that the people of Lima are-"

"Don't you have cookies to make in a tree?" Santana says, passing the brunette to grab another light beer from the refrigerator.

"I hope your animal sweaters are flame-retarded," Brittany says. You're confused as to whether you should clarify or mediate the situation, but Quinn gives Santana an unmistakable glare as she drinks from her wine cooler.

Surprisingly, Santana closes her mouth, lets out a huff, and walks toward the living room.

"So," you say, turning back to Rachel, "tell me about Glee club."

Her eyes light up immediately. This girl shines, and you can't imagine any future of hers that doesn't include a spotlight.

* * *

"That better not be what I think it is," Santana comments as you search for the outlet and Quinn untangles some wires.

"Berry brought it," Quinn states.

"And do you do everything little tree creatures suggest?"

Quinn pauses to give the same look from earlier before adding, "She will either sing or she'll start making possible set lists for sectionals - which do you prefer?"

Another huff and then silence from Santana.

Everyone is slightly drunk, laughing louder, talking more. You like that Quinn's cheeks are tinted pink to match her lips.

Cheers erupt from the kitchen. Some others had showed up a bit later - Tina, Mike, Artie, and Matt - and joined in a competitive game of beerpong. Puck had a tarp in his pickup truck, so he laid it over the kitchen table. You thought it was rather considerate, but Quinn wasn't as amused. She only said, _Puck, if you ruin my aunt's dinner table or chairs, I will personally shave off your mohawk in your sleep and maybe part of your scalp._

You don't ask about their history either.

Kurt is raving about your hair, asking about your hair products of choice, but it gets interrupted by a rather intoxicated Rachel Berry.

"Come on, Sunshine," she says, "Let's sing."

"Sunshine?"

"Like _Remember the Titans_? You know, our football team a won a game through the power of perform-"

"We don't need to talk about that, Rach," Finn intervenes from behind her, giving you a slight shake of the head.

Rachel huffs, scowling at Finn, "Finn, the football team should be proud of their stellar performance of 'Single-'"

"Here you go." Quinn appears, holding two microphones out to you and Rachel.

The harsh look melts away as Rachel takes the microphone and looks at you, absolutely beaming with excitement, "How do you feel about the 80s?"

* * *

After a crowd-pleasing performance of "Don't You Want Me," Rachel tells you she definitely wants you to join Glee club. You notice the frown grow on Finn's face when she comments the necessity of strong male vocals to match her own.

You're watching Mercedes sing an amazing rendition of "Rent" with Artie when you notice Quinn looking over at you and Rachel. Santana is ranting about something, spilling a little beer on the floor as she motions rather wildly with her hands. Brittany looks absolutely enthralled with the story, her blue eyes big as she looks at Santana. You wonder how girls like Santana get so soft and sweet for people like Brittany.

You almost smile and wave at Quinn, but her eyes are mostly focused on Rachel who is now talking about possible set lists for Nationals. You agree with something Rachel says, and don't bother asking to clarify as you watch the muscles in Quinn's face work as she clenches her jaw before turning back to Santana and Brittany.

Just like that, like those sad women in those 60s films, she's all smiles and laughter.

* * *

"WHO WANTS TO PLAY SPIN THE BOTTLE?!"

You decide Rachel is very drunk. She drank the rest of her wine coolers and now has an unopened can of Bud Light in her hand. (You hope she doesn't get sick because pink vomit is not easy to clean out of carpets.)

"For once, I might agree with Tiny Tim," Santana says with a smirk.

Puck slaps you on the back and convinces you to join in.

"No better way to get to know the ladies than some lip service," he says.

You're pretty drunk as well, so you shrug and sit in the circle.

"Quinn, you gonna play?" Puck asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

She just scoffs and sits on the couch to the side of the circle. You do your best not to seem disappointed by this.

You watch Tina spin, and she smiles when it lands on Mike. Artie looks like he might cry as they kiss and engage in some slightly inappropriate touching.

Mike spins, and it lands on you. You gulp and look around, wondering how strictly the rules are followed. No one comes to your aid, and Mike just laughs, his eyes shining from the booze. He crosses the circle and just says, _Sorry dude_, before pulling your face toward his with both his hands, and you're surprised by how hard he kisses you, his lips shut of course.

He pulls away with a smug grin, and there is a second of silence before everyone erupts.

"That was weird."

"That was kind of hot."

"Do you think if they had a baby it would be a blonde Asian baby?"

"Honey, no…"

"I feel confused."

"I will never forget this."

"This just got real gay."

"Excuse me-"

"No offense."

Mike just shrugs, punches your arm and says, "Just rules of the game."

"Yeah… it's whatever, man."

You almost forget to spin the bottle, but Mercedes clears her throat beside you, trying to hide her smirk.

You spin, and it lands on Rachel.

She giggles, and you grin because you like her smile and pouty lips and the way she bats her eyelashes at you as if this is some silly romantic scene in a Disney movie.

You scoot over to her, and you face each other, sitting on your knees.

"Oh, c'mere Sunshine," she says when she notices you hesitate.

You both meet halfway. Her lips are soft, and you think she's about to part from you, but instead she just takes a breath and deepens the kiss. There's no tongue, but you can taste her breath, the sweetness of her wine coolers and lipgloss.

"Okay, we get it, _Berry_," Quinn's voice interrupts your possibly too-long liplock. There it is again, that voice you heard before when she talked to you about Rachel, that voice of annoyance.

You part and people are openly gawking.

"I'm not sure which kiss was weirder," Artie notes.

Finn's hands are balled up in fists, and you watch Puck put a firm hand on his shoulder.

"You have great lips. What chapstick do you use?" Rachel asks, looking at your lips as you take in everyone's reactions in your periphery.

"Um, that cherry kind?"

"Screw this," Finn mutters, turning for the door.

"_Not_ my aunt's chairs, Finn!" Quinn calls out when she sees him raise his foot as if he were about to kick the nearby furniture.

He mumbles something indecipherable before leaving the room.

Rachel pats your face, and she looks sad.

"Sorry, Sunshine," she says quietly, in a voice you haven't heard before. You almost ask,_What for? _But she just stands and follows Finn out the door.

Everyone watches her disappear from the room before realizing the awkward silence in the room.

"Soooo…" Puck breaks the silence, "Who's spinning next?"

Everyone grumbles their disinterest, not wanting to cause more drama, so the game ends there. You see Quinn bending the tab on her beer can, looking everywhere but at you, so you decide to get some basic information from Puck, who still seems friendly toward you despite whatever just happened.

* * *

You quickly understand that the glee club has their share of drama. Puck tells you that Rachel and Finn are taking a break. While they both hurt each other and ended the year with a lot of hope, they were both hanging onto their baggage a little too tight.

"So they broke up or whatever," Puck says with a shrug. His eyes give him away, and you know he's thinking about something else.

You're still buzzed a little later on, but you decide to call it a night. You say bye to everyone and give Mercedes a hug, but when you look around, you realize Quinn isn't there.

You walk to the bathroom, and when you hear someone getting sick inside, you open the door to make sure they're okay.

Rachel is kneeling in front of the toilet, puking pink, and although you cringe, your face softens when you watch the way Quinn sweeps the bangs from Rachel's face, holding the rest of her hair back in her other hand.

Quinn gives you an apologetic look.

"Sorry," you say. "I just wanted to say bye."

"I'll see you," Quinn says quietly.

Rachel's voice echoes from the toilet, "This sucks. Sorry, Sam."

"It happens," you say, "Feel better, Rach."

She lifts her head and gives you a small smile, and despite the fact that she's holding a wad of tissue she used to wipe her mouth, her makeup is running, and she just vomited pink into the toilet, she looks young and beautiful.

"Bye, Quinn," you say.

There's a faint smile on her lips before she returns her attention to Rachel who heaves once more. Before you close the door and leave, you watch Quinn rub Rachel's back gently and hear her whisper, _Just let it out, Rach._

* * *

You're on the floor of your bedroom, lying on top of your sleeping bag. You found Puck trying to sleep in his truck, so you offered him your bed. At first he resisted, but when he couldn't get the key into his truck door right, he conceded.

You think Puck might have fallen asleep already, but you hear his voice from your bed, tired and slurring, "She broke up with me."

"Who?" you ask when he doesn't explain.

"Quinn."

There's a gap of silence, and you wonder if you maybe did anything at the party that gave away your interest in Quinn.

"We were gonna give it another go, but… we're not the same people. We're kids, but kids don't act like other kids once you have a baby."

You actually hold your breath for a moment, run his words through your mind again to make sure you understood.

"_Shit_, she didn't tell you, huh?"

"No."

You see Puck peer down at you from your bed, and he passes you his phone. There's a picture of a beautiful baby, a dusting of blond hair, small pools of blue and green and brown. It's so obviously Quinn's daughter.

"Her name is Beth," he says, "The adoptive mother is pretty open to us meeting her. She sends us pictures every once in a while."

"That's good, I guess. Right?"

"Yeah. She's got a mom who can take care of her," he takes his phone back and looks at it, "Quinn would have been a good mom, but… she's just a little too broken now. Ya know? How do you survive having a kid and getting kicked out of home for almost a year?"

"What?"

"_Shit_. This is what Quinn means when she says I've got a big mouth."

"You don't have to tell me, but her parents kicked her out? Is that why she's staying at her aunt's?"

Puck shakes his head, "It was her dad's call. She lived with Mercedes for a while. Then her mom divorced him, and she took Quinn in again."

"Shit."

You imagine Quinn in one of her dresses looking so sad and lonely on Mercedes doorstep.

"Quinn and Beth are the best accidents I've ever had to call mine," Puck says, looking at the picture of Beth and probably seeing all the parts of her that looked like Quinn. "Is it dumb to still want Quinn?"

"No."

He lets out a morbid laugh, "It never seems dumb at first. Everyone loves her. She won't let herself be anything but perfect, but she hurts people almost as much as she hurts herself in the process. I knew she was gonna break up with me, but still…"

You're thinking about Beth, Quinn and Puck and who they were before you met them, before Quinn got pregnant. You don't want to ask questions, so you make up a few answers. You decide that Quinn was popular, always beautiful in a way that required little effort, and Puck had a charm that was cheesy and light. It was probably so light that Quinn just wanted to fly away for a little bit. You think they might have saved one another.

"Is it Beth, like the song?" you ask into the silence, listening only to the way Puck's breathing starts to even out.

"Yeah. Like the song," he mumbles.

You realize how dry your mouth is and when you ask if Puck wants a bottle of water, you only hear his faint snoring. You decide to get him one anyway, knowing he'll appreciate it in the morning.

You return from the kitchen and place a water bottle beside Puck. You take a few sips from yours and place it on your desk when you see Quinn standing beside a still-drunk, but mostly-tired Rachel. They're both in t-shirts and gym shorts now, so you assume Quinn sent everyone on their way with a designated driver and helped clean up Rachel.

Quinn pulls back the light comforter on her bed and motions for Rachel to get in. She complies, saying something that makes Quinn shake her head and smile. She says something and reaches for the lamp on the bedside table, but Rachel's hand reaches out to hers. She scoots over and pats the empty space.

Quinn's shoulders rise and fall with a sigh, and she doesn't say anything as she pauses for a moment before slipping under the blanket beside Rachel. They both roll to their sides, facing away from each other. Quinn turns off the lamp and everything is dark except the moonlight.


	3. Chapter 3

Summary: "I'm Sam," you say, offering your free hand as your eyes get trapped by hazel once again, "I just moved in next door." / "Quinn," she says, shaking your hand gently. Her hands are soft like her voice, and you wonder what makes her seem like she's holding onto something fragile.—- AU, Faberry, Sam's POV, post-season 1

Rated: T

* * *

**Just Like the Movies**

**3.**

You're really trying to avoid snooping, _really_, but you can't help but notice Santana and Brittany arriving almost every day the following week and leaving only to have Rachel show up a half hour later. You have been reading more, but the view from your desk is far more interesting.

To maintain some self-control, you have taken to closing your blinds, but leaving your windows open. You also recently admitted to yourself that you really love Rachel's voice, and she's almost always singing when she's over Quinn's. So you let yourself listen to the wordless melodies you can make out during her visits. Just like when you first met Quinn, you know there must be more words to describe how Rachel sings.

* * *

Quinn comes over when you're babysitting again. You attempt to be casual when you apologize for maybe getting involved in things you don't understand.

"Did he tell you?" Her voice is soft, but you still feel a chill run down your spine - it's the type of quiet on a frozen lake, when you can hear the cracking of the ice and the water beneath.

You don't fake the need for clarification, so you just nod.

"It's okay. The whole town knows anyway." And all of a sudden her voice is the summer wind again.

You're both drinking iced tea this time, and you watch her swirl the ice around her glass.

"Did I fuck up when I kissed Rachel?" You hope it's vague enough, that it doesn't sound like _Did I fuck up whatever this is between us?_

Quinn sighs, ruffled feathers for a moment, then calm. You wonder if she's tired from all this self-control, all the training she's probably had throughout her years.

"No. You made a good choice having Puck crash at your place. He'll be a good mediator for you and Finn."

You shrug, "I would've done the same for Finn."

"I know. He just needs a bit of a translator. Finn gets mad and does things to let it out. Sometimes people get caught in the crossfire."

You ask about him and Rachel. Quinn's tone becomes almost professional when she states that she doesn't believe in "taking breaks" like Finn and Rachel.

"She knows what my opinion is, so I don't know why she bothers to ramble at me about him."

"What do you say?"

"To break up with him. He's a moron." She says it like it's obvious.

"Do you think she will?"

"I like to think she's smart enough to, but she's pretty stupid when it comes to love and attraction."

* * *

After Quinn leaves, Stacey asks if you're going to kiss her.

You tell her to mind her own business and ruffle her hair.

"I think you'd make a good Prince Charming," she says before running off, singing something about _true love's kiss_.

* * *

You do kiss Quinn. The movie credits roll and you're sitting close on her aunt's floral print couch. So you don't think too thoroughly about what it could mean or project onto it, so you lean in and she doesn't move away.

Your lips press to hers and there's hardly any movement, just a shaky breath from her parted lips before she leans back in to press her lips more firmly against yours.

The kiss transforms from tender to desperate, but not the longing desperation you feel tugging at your heart strings. It's more like she's trying to break through the surface of the ocean, searching for something like sunlight and oxygen from dark depths.

You pull away, and her eyes apologize, seemingly greener than usual, offering the bits of the ocean she's holding inside her.

"I'm sorry," you say.

"No. Don't be. I'm just not sure… I like you a lot Sam…"

"It's okay. You can't make yourself feel something."

She nods, and her eyes swell like tides. She blinks rapidly to make it disappear, so you don't acknowledge this. You just listen to her storm torn breathing as you pull her into a hug, feeling the tremors ripple from her core through your arms.

* * *

You see Quinn praying one night. You shut the blinds when you see her shoulders quake; you don't want to see how Quinn heals from those hurricanes, slowly and alone.

* * *

Stacy asks you if you've kissed Quinn yet.

"Yeah. I did," you say slowly, not bothering to look away from your laptop.

"Did her toe pop? Like in the movies? Did your tummy feel like you had a bunch of butterflies inside?"

You look at your little sister and contemplate lying, but you don't want to be the liar when she gets her heart broken for the first time.

"No. She doesn't like me that way," you admit.

She frowns before kissing your cheek. "You're a cute frog. You're bound to find another princess to kiss."

* * *

You're a bit confused when you wake up around midnight to Peter Gabriel. You get out of bed and look out your window to see a semi-intoxicated Puck standing in front of Quinn's house with a boombox.

It doesn't take long before you hear Quinn shout from her front window.

"The hell, Puck?!"

"I still love you!" The slurred words prove he might be more than semi-intoxicated, but you give him some credit for this ridiculous expression of his affection.

"Jesus, I cannot deal with this right now," Quinn says before you hear her window slide shut. You're not sure if it was actually addressed to Jesus or just an exclamation.

You watch Quinn, all wind blown, storm out onto her lawn. She grabs the boombox from him and turns off the music. It's so quiet, you confuse the sound of the leaves for their breath.

You can't make out what they're saying, but you watch Quinn start to cry. Puck hugs her, but unlike the time she was with you, she lets herself go - his lightness keeping her afloat.

* * *

You're almost finished with _The Perks of Being a Wallflower_, so you're sitting at your desk reading. It's been a week since you kissed Quinn, and you've been meaning to talk to her, but she hasn't been home much.

So when you hear her car pull into the driveway, you consider walking over, bringing snacks and offering your friendship again. Your heart is still intact, and in the week that you've waited to talk to her, you decided that Quinn Fabray deserves a different kind of love than what you could offer.

But you watch Rachel get out of the passengers side of her car, and they're both in shorts and tank tops, carrying beach towels and bags. Even in the dusk, you see how sunkissed their skin is, and you catch yourself staring at Rachel's legs as she reaches in the trunk of the car for a beach chair.

They're talking, and you hear the laughter in their voices. They disappear into the garage, but their voices return and the small light on the back porch turns on. They each have a wine cooler in hand as they sit by the pool, dipping their feet in the water.

Quinn lets out a laugh and kicks up some water at Rachel. This goes on for maybe two seconds before Quinn's pushed into the pool. You expect her to be upset, but she comes up laughing, squealing like the child you never knew, and you suspect that Quinn hardly had the time to be that child in her lifetime.

Quinn pulls Rachel in and their splashing continues. You decide to postpone your visit and instead grab a DVD to watch with your siblings.

* * *

It's one of the hottest days of August, and you're grateful that Puck invited you (and Mercedes and Brittany and Santana) to Quinn's pool. Quinn had asked him to help clean it since it was starting to collect leaves and june bugs, but Puck brought along a cooler of beers and Twisted Teas to make a small party out of it. When everyone arrived, Quinn just shrugged, apathetic from the heat.

It's too hot to be really raucous, so everyone's just floating on various ridiculous floats that you all bought for a few bucks at the local Walgreens. It's hard to take Puck seriously as he's skimming the pool while atop an alligator floaty.

He tosses you a beer from the cooler. "So, what I'm saying is, join football, then join Glee, and me, you, and Finn will be like… the Triple Entente."

"Dear god, I think Puck just made an accurate historical reference," Mercedes notes, drinking from her lemonade.

Puck's smug look gets wiped off by a beach ball to the face from Santana.

"You look constipated when you make that face," Santana notes, drinking from her wine cooler.

"So where's Rachel?" you ask, hoping to prevent an unnecessary chicken fight in the pool.

"Does it look like I have a Smurf tracker on me?" Santana asks, looking at you over her sunglasses.

You look to Quinn, thinking she might have an answer, but she's preoccupied, opening the cooler and deciding what she'd like to drink. You turn to Santana who's still eying you like you have three heads, "Oh, I just thought-"

"You obviously didn't think anything."

"I think she's a sad panda," Brittany chimes in, "She broke up with Finn… which I guess makes Finn the sad panda, but he's really tall, so maybe he's a sad giraffe."

"She did?" Quinn asks curiously. She makes eye contact with you, but quickly directs her focus to the cap of the Twisted Tea bottle.

"Yeah, I'm surprised the newspaper didn't make a headline that Jack and the Beanstalk broke up," Santana notes, pulling her phone from her bag.

You see Puck scoop a couple junebugs from the water, and you nod in Santana's direction with a grin. He laughs and within a few seconds, Santana's out of the water, screaming about monster insects and Puck being an asshole.

You use this moment of chaos to pull yourself along the wall of the pool toward where Quinn is sitting. You notice her cheeks are slightly sunburned from the beach, and you like the floppy sun hat she's wearing, reminding you of those goofy hats Audrey Hepburn or Grace Kelly would wear.

"Here," you say, taking the bottle from her hands. You easily twist it off and hand it back to her.

She looks at you, eyes golden, all shifting sunset tides, and murmurs an almost silent_Thanks_.

* * *

Rachel's over. You notice this because you just finished _The Perks of Being a Wallflower_, and something inside you is sad - you guess you're looking for something more hopeful whenever you peer out your window into a life that's not yours.

She's sitting beside Quinn on her bed, watching something on her laptop. Rachel leans her head on Quinn's shoulder as they both laugh at something. A moment of rigidity, then all softness. You wait for Quinn to roll her eyes or shrug her off, but she doesn't - she just melts and molds herself a bit more so it looks like they were always meant to be that close.

You wonder how long Quinn's been keeping Rachel at a distance, how long it took for her to grow tired of pushing her away before she realized she needed her there just like that. Just the two of them.

* * *

You're both watching _Sabrina_ because Quinn likes old movies that mislead everyone to thinking love was simple and unnecessarily complex back then.

But she pauses the movie seemingly out of nowhere and turns to face you.

You look at her, and you have a mouth full of popcorn that you don't know what to do with because the crunching seems too loud for whatever she's about to tell you.

"I think I like someone."

You proceed to chew as quietly as possible, using the time to think of an appropriate response, the friend response you were supposed to have ready for a moment like this.

"I'm telling you this because you have no idea who I am."

You swallow down the mostly-chewed popcorn. "I think I have a general idea."

She won't let her eyes meet yours. "You're so nice to me, Sam. I'm not. I'm not a nice person."

"Sure you are."

"No. I'm a bitch."

"I think you're a softy with a bitchy exterior," you say with a shrug, happy that she smiles, "So why is liking someone a big deal?"

There's a shaky breath, then sad windchimes in her voice when she says, "I think I'm gay."

"Oh."

Pause.

Rewind.

Play all.

(And now it all makes much more sense. Like you read words, it's all in pieces, and you've just put it all together. Like Quinn - in so _so _many pieces - put all together, she's so tragically beautiful.)

"Fuck, sorry." She stands up so quickly, you're surprised you manage to gently wrap your fingers around her wrist before she flew away.

"It's cool. Really."

"I'm freaking out." She's shaking, leaves on limbs of trees that don't make a sound until the end of fall.

"You're allowed to freak out. It's a lot," you think for a second before adding, "Thanks for telling me?" You're awkward. You know this, but it seems to soothe her a little. You tug at her wrist to get her to sit again.

"You're not freaked out?"

"Why would I be?"

"Because we kissed."

"It's okay. You can't help how you feel."

She nods, and her rip-tide eyes don't make your heart ache for yourself, just for her.

"So," you give her a light smile, "Can I ask who?"

"No." She smiles despite herself, and you worry that this might become another piece of her you won't know how to read.

* * *

It's not an accident. You were peeping on purpose. Because you wanted to see how Rachel gets swept up in Quinn's storms, see if they survive.

You see Rachel briefly recoil as Quinn exclaims something, something harsh overflowing from inside her. Then, a change in the tides, and Rachel just pulls Quinn toward her, stands on her tiptoes and kisses her.

You think of the way storms leave cities, standing sadly after all the wreckage has been accounted for. Quinn is always overflowing, heavy, but you like the way Rachel keeps shining, reminding Quinn to count her blessings.

You move away from the window as they part, and you breathe a sigh of relief when you see Rachel has closed the blinds.


	4. Chapter 4

Summary: "I'm Sam," you say, offering your free hand as your eyes get trapped by hazel once again, "I just moved in next door." / "Quinn," she says, shaking your hand gently. Her hands are soft like her voice, and you wonder what makes her seem like she's holding onto something fragile.—- AU, Faberry, Sam's POV, post-season 1

Rated: T

a/n: this is the last part! thanks for sticking around and sending such lovely feedback! if you don't want to follow me here, find me on tumblr – closetcasefabray. xox

* * *

**Just Like the Movies**

**4.**

Rachel is over more often, and you're seeing less and less of Santana's car in front of Quinn's house. You sometimes even hear Quinn laugh when Rachel is over; it's just as wonderful as hearing Rachel sing.

Quinn invites you to go swimming later that week, and you're happy to see Mercedes and Rachel already out by the pool. Mercedes is getting a towel inside when you see Quinn discretely kiss Rachel's shoulder before applying some sunscreen to her back. Something inside you swells with pride when Quinn doesn't look to see if they've been caught – she just whispers something in Rachel's ear, making the smaller girl smile.

* * *

You drink from your Solo cup as Rachel tells you about her plans to write some original songs for glee club this year. She and Quinn have barely exchanged a word, but Rachel doesn't seem hurt by this, so you assume it was discussed prior to the party.

"I can play guitar," you say, "We should jam sometime."

"Really?" She's elated, and you wonder how Quinn could ever pretend she disliked her. You really enjoy Rachel's enthusiasm, and you have a strange desire to proclaim that at this moment, as if everyone in glee club should know that you're on her side.

"You know, you should stop inflating her ego," Santana bites, walking by and bumping Rachel's shoulder. "It goes straight to her nose."

You open your mouth to defend her, wanting to fulfill your duties as Rachel's newfound ally, but sometime in the past ten seconds, Quinn appeared beside Rachel, her face stern.

"Watch your mouth, Santana."

Santana slowly turns and looks at Quinn, and it's like one of those showdowns in movies about the Old West. Except they don't have guns, just ice-cold glares. Rachel looks nervously between the two of them. You assume this is what the meteorologists were talking about when a cold front meets a warm front; nothing good happens.

"What'd you just say to me, Fabray?"

"I said, 'Watch. Your. Mouth,' _Lopez,_" she seethes slowly.

"Tuck away your weird lady boner for Bilbo and learn to shut your mouth. I don't know if you remember," Santana says, stepping closer to Quinn so she's inches from her face, "but I'm on top this year. You don't have shit without Cheerios."

"Get the hell out of my house then," Quinn says through gritted teeth. Part of you shivers because it quickly transitioned from an Old West showdown to a Planet Earth segment on battles between alphas. "Fake, plastic bitch."

In a flash, Santana's hand is raised to strike Quinn, but Mercedes dives between them.

"Let's calm down, girl," Mercedes says, holding back Santana who is now muttering obscenities.

"Quinn, it's fine," Rachel whispers softly, taking Quinn's hand in a subtle gesture. "This isn't the way to end the summer."

Quinn sighs, running her free hand through her hair, looking at the brunette. You watch all her features soften, and you think that girls like Brittany and Rachel possess some kind of magic.

"Yeah, you're right."

Like it was timed, Brittany walks into the house, her dance bag still on her shoulder.

"Hey guys!" she says, practically skipping to Santana and kissing her on the cheek, "What's up?" The whole glee club looks at her disbelievingly, practically choking on the tension.

"We gotta go, Britts," Santana says quietly, the muscles in her jaw tight as she tries to make her voice calm for her girlfriend (or whatever they are).

"But I just got here."

"Q doesn't want us here."

"But we're the Unholy Trinity," Brittany says with a pout, looking between the two of them with her blue eyes all big.

"Stay," Quinn almost groans, but in her perfectly smooth Quinn voice way, "Just watch your fucking mouth around Rachel. That's not how you talk to your glee captain."

Multiple jaws drop. This is apparently not normal, you conclude. In a few minutes, Puck clears his throat awkwardly and turns up the music, instigating people to carry on with their drinking games and conversations.

Quinn takes a few desperate gulps from her Solo cup as Rachel leans in to tell her something, letting her hand rest on Quinn's hip for a brief moment before taking her hand again.

When Finn walks in, you notice Quinn tense. She lets go of Rachel's hand and just gives her a small nod. She walks off as Rachel approaches Finn, looking nervous.

You think you understand now, why Quinn and Santana have to be so hard; they have a tenderness they hold close because they've seen their insides spilled out in front of the wrong people.

* * *

"I feel like you and I are the only smart ones here," Mercedes says with a grin, nudging you with her hip as she sidles up beside you.

You're watching Finn and Rachel have a rather forced conversation, and you can tell Rachel is trying harder to make their new friendship work.

"I don't know what you mean," you mumble before walking to the refrigerator for one of Puck's beers.

"Oh, come on. I can't be alone in this," Mercedes almost begs, following you the few steps over to keep her voice low, "_Quinn_… _and_…" she drags out.

"Yeah. I just… don't know if we're supposed to know," you say, cracking open the can.

"Well, I'm glad I'm not crazy," Mercedes says with a chuckle, raising her cup to your can.

"No, you definitely aren't," you say with a grin before taking a sip of your beer. You like her laugh, and you find her optimism and humor refreshing.

Quinn can be a bit intense, and you will always try and piece her together to see the whole picture. But Mercedes is different, like watching a funny movie; she makes things seem easy. You spend the next ten minutes trying to make her laugh as often as possible.

* * *

You notice Quinn has disappeared again, so you go looking for her. You find your way to her room, or temporary room, and knock lightly on the closed door.

"Who is it?" Her voice is muffled and hard to hear over the music.

"Sam. Can I come in?"

The door opens and, once again, Quinn is beautifully windswept, eyes like storms carrying those lost messages in bottles.

"Good. If it was Puck, I was going to have to get my pepper spray," she says. You laugh, but her silence cuts it short. You don't want to end your summer with pepper spray.

"What're you doing?"

"Just wanted to get away from… the party for a little bit. I'm weird about big groups sometimes," she confesses, gracefully plopping onto her bed. She's smiling, but it's sort of sad and you assume it's the best she can do since she's sort of drunk.

You sit beside her and speak in a voice that you hope won't scare her away, "From Finn and Rachel?"

A moment passes, and you're afraid Quinn is hiding parts of herself.

But she sighs and her voice cracks on the one word she can say – _Yeah_. She leans her head on your shoulder, so you put your arm around her and, as if the wind had carried out her trembling response, she's all stone again. She's almost strong to a fault, constantly fighting the undertow to stay afloat.

You see a small duffle bag beside her dresser, and the big gold star on it makes it clear that it's Rachel's. You don't mention it, just listen to the hum of the stereo downstairs and the voices of your new friends.

There's a light knock on the door. "Quinn? Can I come in?"

You remove your arm from around Quinn, feeling like it might give the wrong impression to Rachel. You smile at the thought of it – Rachel passively addressing it later that night to Quinn. You hope Quinn tells her to shut up, tell her she's nuts, and then kisses her so she'll always know that Quinn has only had eyes on her.

"Yeah, come in."

"Oh, hi Sam," Rachel says, quickly assessing the situation to see if she's interrupting.

"Hey, Rachel. Just keeping Quinn company," you say, standing up, swishing your beer can to find it empty, "I'm, uh, going to grab another beer. See you guys back down there."

"K, we'll be right down," Quinn says with an appreciative smile.

You see Rachel give Quinn a timid smile and an equally as timid, _Hey. _

Just before you close the door, you see Quinn pull Rachel toward her and wrap her arms around her waist, anchoring herself to the brunette.

* * *

Two days before the start of school, Quinn shows up at your house. Her eyes are puffy like she's been crying, and you don't know if you've ever seen her so torn up.

"I know you know," Quinn says, her voice unwavering.

You let her in and sit in the living room since you have the house to yourself.

"Did you want to talk about it?"

She shakes her head, but then sighs as if frustrated by her habitual response to shut out the people who could judge the scar tissue surrounding the aching muscle in her chest.

"I called it off," she mumbles. Her lip trembles, and then, for the first time, she lets herself cry in front of you. It's the silent kind, and up until this point you always thought sobs were the most painful sound to hear. "She deserves to be more than a secret, you know?"

Words fail you, and once again you search your memory for something poetic, anything that will soothe her. Quinn is a great actress, but a complex one, so no passage or movie scene seems to suffice. You put your hand on her shoulder to gage whether or not she wants to be embraced, so when she leans into it, you wrap your arms around her in what you hope is the gentlest but most reaffirming hug you can offer.

"She'll wait for you," you say quietly, not wanting to disturb her in her state, "And she can help you."

"I don't want her to wait," her breath is warm against your chest, and you can feel the dampness from her tears, your shirt soaking up the oceans she normally keeps so calm, "She deserves someone who can support her, not someone who will just hold her back. I've already hurt her too many times."

"You aren't a burden, Quinn. You're already part of her life, and whether or not you're together, I think she'll always look for your face in the audience."

Quinn doesn't respond, so you just let the silence surround you until her breathing evens out.

"I move back after the first week of school," she mumbles, "And as much as my mom loves me, I don't know if I can be a disappointment again. I don't want Rachel to have to see that."

"Do what you need to feel safe, okay?" you say, kissing her temple as you pull away to look at her. Her eyes shimmer, and you imagine that this must be what sunsets look like on the ocean's horizon. "I'll visit you at your house, and you can come over and help me babysit."

She nods and manages a smile. "I'd like that. Thanks for everything, Sam."

* * *

Your first day is as you imagined – uncomfortable. People stare and exchange whispered conversations. You keep your chin up as you walk right up to the first bulletin board and sign up for a glee club audition, right beneath _Ivanna Humpalot_.

As you make your way to the guidance counselor's office for a quick run-through of classroom locations and extracurricular options, you pause in front of a display case filled with trophies. _Cheerios – National Champions _is printed on a banner over the collection of awards. You notice the photograph in the center, a perfect Quinn Fabray standing atop the pyramid with a disgruntled-looking Santana below and an oblivious, semi-confused Brittany beside her.

Next to the display case is a bulletin board with a make-shift banner reading, _New Directions_. It's apparent that several things have already been torn off of it, and the photo of the club is vandalized to the point that you can hardly make out the faces beneath the mustaches, penises, and devil horns. Who you assume are the jocks and Cheerios, however, remain untouched.

* * *

It's cold, and it burns your eyes. You're happy that the red dye at least matches the color of your shirt.

"Hope you like the cold, Bieber," says some jock with a mullet.

_Well, _you think, _Bieber is better than_-

"I'm surprised that trouty mouth of yours didn't swallow the whole slushie," adds another.

_There it is._

You sigh as they walk off laughing, and you navigate your way through the staring crowd to the nearest bathroom. You turn on the faucet and start to splash warm water on your face when you hear the door creak open.

"Sam?"

You blink the water from your eyes and see Rachel has popped her head in. She doesn't wait for a response to enter once she sees your wet face and hair. She carries in a small folding chair in one arm and a tote bag in the other. She locks the door behind her before she turns around and looks at you like a project.

"I guess I should have warned you about the slushie attacks," she says with a sigh, her hands on her hips.

"Kentucky was just the usual 'throwing kids in dumpsters' kind of bullying," you mumble.

"They do that too. Or port-o-potties."

You must look appalled at the idea, but she just shakes her head, leaving that discussion for another time. "I'm here to offer my perfected Slushie Survival expertise."

"Good because this food dye is burning my eyes."

Rachel hands you a make-up removal cloth for you to wipe your face clean as she unfolds the chair in front of one of the sinks. She goes about this in a way that mimics old-fashioned TV moms setting the table for breakfast with her family. It hurts, you realize, to see how familiar she is with this, to know that she has probably been slushied countless times.

Then you understand what Quinn meant when she said she hurt Rachel.

"You're good at this," you say as Rachel rinses out your hair, lightly massaging your scalp.

"I take pride in perfecting all things I do in life," she states with a smile.

You decide that if she can survive this, so can you. A girl like Rachel dreams so clear that no slushie could ever ruin her vision. You find that inspiring, really, so you smile back just as big.

"The largest shirt I have is unfortunately from my Great Aunt Susan," she says, handing you the spare shirt and a towel to dry your hair.

You look at it, a printed t-shirt from some island resort with a dolphin on it. You have a spare shirt for gym, but you pull off your slushied shirt and put on this one without a fuss. You kiss her cheek and thank her, making her blush.

Rachel pulls a hairdryer out from her bag and you laugh; she really does have this perfected. You think about Quinn and how Rachel would perfect their relationship in some weird but special way.

"Hey Rachel?"

"Yes, Sam?" she says, plugging the hairdryer into the nearby outlet.

"If I get into glee club, would you want to do a duet with me?"

"While I am always inclined to collaborate, I'm not entirely sure that's the best way for you to enter the McKinley hierarchy. I'd pull you down," she says, busying herself with unraveling the chord.

"I don't care where I land on the food chain. I have an idea…" you pause and decide to be bold, "for you and Quinn."

Rachel stops what she's doing and looks at you, trying to judge your intent.

"You…"

"I know. I think she's scared, but I think you're one of the strongest people here, Rach."

She cracks a smile, "Well… I _am_ a fan of grand gestures."

* * *

"Hey, _Sunshine_," Mercedes says cheekily from beside you in the cafeteria line.

"I'll take that nickname any day," you say, happy to see a familiar face. Puck and Finn were preoccupied with the other football players in your earlier classes, and you assume that Quinn and Rachel are in higher level English and Math courses.

"Oh lord, what are you wearing?"

"Rachel's only large spare shirt," you tell her with a dopey grin. You've worn it with pride, dealt with a few football players making dolphin sounds throughout study hall, and even volunteered to do a math equation in front of the class while wearing it.

"Right. Girl comes prepared. Sorry you got slushied," she says, giving you a sympathetic pat. "Welcome to McKinley."

"Yup. And someone changed my name to 'Samantha' on the bulletin board."

"Just… stay away from port-o-potties," Mercedes warns, cringing.

"Trust me, I will."

You sit with the glee kids, and despite all the French fries and tater tots being thrown at the glee club from the hockey team, you enjoy watching Artie make a sport out of trying to catch them in his mouth and the fact that Kurt is sporting a 'smock' in order to prevent grease stains.

Rachel takes a seat beside Kurt and Mercedes as Quinn purposely sits on the opposite end of the table. You don't miss the way she glances over a few tables to the Cheerios, then discretely at Rachel. Although you definitely like girls in cheerleader uniforms, you like her pretty floral dress and her long blonde hair that falls in perfect waves.

She raises an eyebrow at the sight of your shirt, but you mouth _Slushie_ and nod toward Rachel.

The table cheers when Artie successfully catches a tater tot in his mouth, and upon hearing Mercedes laugh, seeing Quinn smile in way that isn't forced and Rachel peer over at Quinn with a small curve of her lips – it makes you believe that these are all pieces that are meant to come together into something incredible.

* * *

It silences the entire hallway with the exception of a few gasps.

Quinn is standing in a slushie puddle in the main hallway, her cream-colored floral dress now a light shade of blue.

"Blue looks good on you, baby momma," says a guy much bigger than you, pretending to dust off the shoulder of his letterman. You note this because you're trying to stop yourself from punching him in the face.

People wait for her reaction, but she just keeps her eyes closed and slowly begins to wipe the excess slushie from her face.

"Hey!" booms a voice, immediately making everyone scatter to their various classrooms, "What's going on here?"

A tall blonde woman in a red sweatsuit appears, telling the students lagging behind to scram. You hide behind your open locker door as you keep watch.

"What happened here, Fabray?" There's no sympathy in her voice.

"I walked into a slushie machine, Coach Sylvester," Quinn says sarcastically, in the same bone-chilling tone she used when fighting with Santana at her party.

"There are lessons we learn at the bottom, Fabray." She walks off without another word.

Rachel comes running, as if just hearing the news, but before she can get close, Quinn holds out her hand to stop her.

"Don't," she says.

Your heart plummets when you see Rachel recoil, but a second later, she clears her throat and lifts her chin.

"Fine," Rachel says, almost angry, pulling a towel from her tote bag, "Just know that you have a choice. You don't have to be alone in this." She forcefully hands Quinn the towel before storming off.

Quinn's head drops, and you wish you never learned to recognize what she looks like when she's trying not to cry.

* * *

Quinn has a different dress on in glee, and your heart breaks picturing her packing it in the morning before school.

You're welcomed into the glee club almost immediately, and you're happy to hear the cheers of support. Mr. Schuester is nice and encouraging, but you kind of understand why Rachel has to take a lot of initiative on things.

You stay late to rehearse with Rachel, and you both agree that you'll perform the song at the end of the week for glee. Although you will only have time to practice during lunch and study hall, you both know that you can't wait. Quinn has become all stone, giving classmates harsh glares as if warning them that if they even think about throwing another slushie, she'll have their heads. You both miss the softer side of her.

* * *

She looks tired when she opens the door of her aunt's house. You give her a sympathetic half-grin and hold out a cupcake you got from the bakery on your way home from school.

"What's this?" she asks, quirking an eyebrow. You're a bit proud of yourself when you see a hint of amusement in her eyes.

"A 'Slushies Suck' cupcake. I already ate mine," you say. She takes it, a small smile playing at her lips. "You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really."

"That's okay. Just… I'm here for you. We're all in this together, and I'm really happy I met you first."

For the first time, Quinn makes the first move and pulls you into a tight hug.

"Thanks, Sam."

* * *

The next couples of days are easier, and you're happy that no glee club members get slushied in the meantime. You made the football team, so you understand that Puck and Finn have some power in preventing the slushie attacks, usually involving a mediocre speech by Finn and Puck with his arms crossed standing beside him.

After school, you put off your homework and practice your half of the duet in your room. You're strumming your acoustic guitar, trying to recall the harmonies, when you get a text message from Quinn.

_I think I'm going to come out to my mom._

You hastily reply, _If that's what you want._

Quinn's been at a distance from seemingly everyone, so you're eager to respond to her reaching out to you.

_I just don't want to move back in and get kicked out. At least this way my stuff would be here._

You chew the inside of your cheek, caught between depression and rage at the injustice in the world.

_I'll be here._

You stare at the screen until she replies.

_Do you think Rachel will be?_

_She never left._

* * *

"Um, Mr. Schue?" you say, raising your hand from the back of the risers in the choir room.

"Yeah, Sam?"

"I, uh," everyone is turned around in their chairs, and it's the closest feeling to stage fright you've ever had because this is important, "Rachel and I worked together on a song, and we were wondering if we could sing it for your guys."

You're happy that the group responds enthusiastically, and you see Quinn's confused expression as you hop down the risers toward the front of the room.

"That's great!" Mr. Schue says brightly, "See, guys? This is exactly the type of thing I want to see more of this year! Initiative!"

Rachel mumbles something you can't quite here, but you're fairly confident you get the gist of it. She pulls up two stools as you take your guitar out of the case.

"No long-winded introduction?" Kurt asks from the back of the room as Rachel quietly gets seated.

"I think the song speaks for itself," Rachel says in a soft voice that makes a few members raise their eyebrows in surprise.

She gives you a nod and you begin strumming.

_When I was younger I saw my daddy cry and curse at the wind  
He broke his own heart as I watched as he tried to reassemble it  
And my momma swore she would never let herself forget  
And that was the day that I promised I'd never sing of love  
If it does not exist_

_But darlin', you are the only exception  
You are the only exception…_

Quinn looks up at this and doesn't look away as Rachel continues to sing to her. You sing the harmonies and smile as Mercedes gently joins in with you from her seat nearby.

_And I'm on my way to believing  
Oh, and I'm on my way to believing…_

Rachel trails off and you end with a soft, final strum of the guitar. The glee club whoops and cheers, and Rachel grins modestly. Quinn's eyes shimmer, and you imagine the gray skies after the rain and how green everything becomes in stark contrast.

Without a word, Quinn slips out while Mr. Schue thanks you and Rachel for a "stellar performance." You pack up your guitar and grab your backpack as he tells everyone to brainstorm some more duet ideas for Sectionals. You expect Rachel to look pleased by Mr. Schue mentioning the competition so early in the year, but her head is down as she retrieves her belongings.

Once dismissed, you walk out with Rachel.

"Was it too much?" she whispers.

"No. It was beautiful, Rach," you say, putting your arm around her shoulder.

You walk out to the school parking lot and see Quinn in the distance, leaning against Rachel's car. Then she smiles, sunshine through clouds, scattering through tree branches. Rachel smiles back, and you give her shoulder a squeeze before letting your arm drop from her shoulders.

"Thanks, Sam," she says, her voice summer wind soft, then walking quickly to her car with a small hop in her step.

"You always play Cupid?" Mercedes voice startles you, and she gets a good chuckle seeing you jump.

"Hey, Rach!" calls Finn from behind you. The brunette doesn't hear him as she and Quinn get into their cars. He joins you and Mercedes, a doofy smile on his face. "That song was _so _for me."

You cringe and Mercedes' body begins to shake to refrain from laughing in his face. With a pat to his shoulder you give him a small look of pity. "No, dude. I definitely don't think it was for you."

You and Mercedes walk toward your respective cars, both trying to keep your laughter silent.

* * *

You decide that you don't like Saturday practices as you get out of your car, feeling your muscles ache from Coach Bieste's drills. You see Rachel's car parked in Quinn's driveway, and you hope this is a sign that they're healing, growing. When you open your window, you hear Rachel singing a song, but you open _Brave New World _and put on your headphones. It's a moment you decide to stay outside of.

* * *

Rachel's car stays in front of Quinn's overnight. On Sunday, after taking your siblings to get ice cream, you see Rachel and Quinn walk out of the house with bags in their arms and load them into Quinn's car. You give them both a wave, and they say hi to you, Stevie, and Stacey. Quinn looks nervous as she gets in her car, but you see Rachel take Quinn's hand from the passenger seat, kissing the back of it reassuringly.

As you walk inside, Stevie states that he thinks Quinn's friend is the prettiest and once he's older, he's going to take her out for ice cream. He pouts and storms off when you only laugh and tell him, _Good luck with that._

Later that night, Quinn texts you.

_We told my mom. She took it as well as she could._

_I'm happy for you, but Stevie is upset because he's in love with Rachel._

_Understandable._

* * *

Quinn and Rachel enter school hand-in-hand. You can see they're both wearing their bravest faces as they walk down the hall. People are gawking, and you chew your lip nervously.

Nothing happens, and you breathe a sigh of relief as Quinn leans on the lockers beside Rachel's.

"I don't know what's more terrifying: Rachel and Quinn being friends or Quinn looking happy," Kurt says, his locker a few down from you.

You smirk, "I guess it's a strange sight, huh?"

He looks at you inquisitively. "Am I missing some-"

"See you in glee, Kurt!" you say hastily before grabbing some books and slamming your locker shut.

* * *

You guess you shouldn't be surprised, but the rest of the student population is as Rachel and Quinn stand, soaked in purple slushie, holding hands in front of the cafeteria. The slushie-thrower is obviously a freshman who was coerced into the attack, trembling as he considers where to run.

Quinn merely blinks the frozen drink from her eyes, turns to Rachel and laughs. The two of them are grinning like maniacs as they leave the cafeteria for the bathroom and Rachel's perfectly stocked Slushie Survival Kit. The freshman looks stunned that he didn't get slapped, and the entire glee club is sitting with their jaws agape. Mercedes and you use this opportunity to steal their tater tots from their plates, high-fiving in victory.

* * *

By the end of glee, Finn kicks over a chair in confusion and slight heartbreak and Puck gets smacked over the back of his head by Mercedes just for opening his mouth. He settles for a high five from Rachel (denied by Quinn).

* * *

Quinn still comes over to help babysit, and Rachel joins sometimes. You like watching them, the way Rachel retrieves snacks or pencils in twos from her bag to hand one to Quinn. You're all working on some homework together in the living room when Rachel says she has to head to ballet class. Without much thought, she gives Quinn a quick peck on the lips before dashing out.

Stevie looks relatively heartbroken, but Stacey, who had been busy watching some cartoon on TV, is now looking at Quinn with her eyes big. Quinn's face is bright pink, and she looks at you almost apologetically. You shrug, seeing it as no different from your parents kissing goodbye. Then, in a flash, Stacey excitedly climbs into Quinn's lap on top of the textbook she was reading.

"You really like her, huh?" she says with a bright smile.

Quinn nods, looking to you for help, but you just smile and shrug again.

Stacey starts braiding Quinn's hair and talking a mile a minute, "Do you get butterflies when you see her? Is Rachel like a princess, too? I think you both look like princesses. Do you both ride horses together? And braid each other's hair? Is it like in the movies? Do you eat spaghetti together and end up kissing like Lady and the Tramp? Is it-"

"Slow it down, Stacey," you say, chuckling as you pull her from Quinn's lap. You're happy Stacey has Quinn to talk to about all these girly things, but you're afraid she might pass out if she keeps talking so fast without breathing.

Quinn just grins and starts to braid Stacey's hair to match hers. She has a brightness to her, like Rachel gives her stardust every time they kiss. Stacey can hardly sit still, so happy she gets to see true love. When Quinn leans down like she's sharing a secret with her, you pretend you don't hear her when she whispers, _Just like the movies._

* * *

The End


End file.
